


lingering, in every sense

by dissatisfied starlight (facelesshellion)



Series: let's get you off that pedestal - it's warmer down here [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, モブサイコ100 | Mob Psycho 100
Genre: Case Fic, Developing Friendships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Harry's Got Issues, Pre-Relationship, in another world reigen was probs a therapist let's be real, reigen's perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 15:56:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17831624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facelesshellion/pseuds/dissatisfied%20starlight
Summary: “The office is… really clean,” He says, a remarkable amount of judgment underneath his bland tone.“It’s not like the office was that bad before!” Reigen protests, having thought the same thing earlier. “Sure, there was maybe a little bit of grime - but I wouldn’t expose our customers to filth. It’s bad for business, after all.”Mob tilts his head. “It is really clean, though.”After a heavy pause to recover from the blow, Reigen says, reluctantly, “It really is. Potter’s responsible for it. He’ll be staying with me for the foreseeable future.”Mob’s eyes go starry. “Mr. Potter? From yesterday?”Reigen doesn’t know how he feels about a look that used to be only for him being directed towards the skinny bit-of-nothing that didn’t know how to Google an address. He nods anyway.





	1. who doesn't love a good cry with breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> hello again! i made SURE not to post any more of this until i at least had section 2 done - so this will be five chapters! that are already written! so like! you can know that at least this part of the story will be done!!! 
> 
> i'll probs post them once a week-ish, i haven't really decided yet. the last few chapters still need to be proofread a little bit. 
> 
> thanks for reading, i hope you guys enjoy! let me know what you think~

Reigen, unsurprisingly, falls asleep at his desk. He tends to more nights than not - If he actually makes the trek to his bed, he’ll just be bored and lonely until he falls asleep. If he stays in the office, at least he won’t be bored in the hours leading up to sunrise. He’s slowly getting the hang of coding with these late nights, too, which means the website will be raking in customers before they know it. 

When he wakes up, he futilely rolls his neck and shoulders around to try getting the kinks out. After sleeping for - a quick glance at the clock tells him it’s been at least six hours since he last checked - six hours in a wooden chair, he has no chance of feeling comfortable at any point today. He’s on his last shirt, too, so he’ll have to go to the laundromat as well. 

Lame. 

After a few minutes of blankly staring at the ceiling, he wakes up enough to realize there’s a pretty damn good smell coming from the back. Curious and concerning, considering he lives alone and Mob always locks the door behind him, so there shouldn’t be any clients - 

Right. Potter. With how tired the kid had been, Reigen half-expected him to sleep for a week. He’s pretty impressed Potter’s up as early as he is - Reigen rarely sleeps past seven, and today’s no different. He hopes Potter made enough to share, because he really isn’t in the mood to cook himself.   
The tiny kitchen smells even better when he walks in. Potter turns away from the stove as he walks up and greets Reigen with a bright smile. 

“Sleep well?” Reigen asks, a little stupidly. 

Potter’s smile widens and he nods. “Very. Thank you for letting me stay the night - I hadn’t realized how delirious I was until I woke up.” He holds up the frying pan he’s wielding, and his smile turns a little sheepish. “I figured I could thank you with a breakfast spread? I went out and grabbed groceries, too.” 

Sure enough, when Reigen goes to fill a glass with water, he sees that all of his shelves are filled to the brim. It’s more food than he’s had - ever? At least since before he started living on his own. There’s tons of his favorite snacks - his waistline isn’t going to thank Potter, but Reigen sure as hell will. 

“I won’t say no to being paid in food,” Reigen decides to say before sitting at the tiny kitchen table to start sipping his water. “Saved me a trip to the store at least. Thanks.” 

Potter scrapes a huge heap of food onto a plate and slides it in front of him. It’s western, from what he can tell. A ton of eggs and potatoes, plus some meat. Reigen dives in and gives Potter a thumbs up after the first few bites. 

“So - now that you’re haunting-free - “ 

“I already left the cash on your desk. I wasn’t sure what tier my pseudo-exorcism fell in, so I just paid for the highest one twice.” 

Reigen pauses, fork halfway to his mouth. It’s easy enough to calculate, since his prices are intentionally kept in whole numbers, but it takes him a second to remember how much the highest tier costs. No one ever pays for that level, because it’s intentionally a ludicrous amount of money - it makes the other prices more palatable. Basic psychology. 

Carefully lowering his fork to his plate, he presses his fingers together and with as much strength as he can muster, says, “Well, for one, that wasn’t what I was going to ask. But thank you for your integrity. For another - I can’t possibly accept that.” 

“Is it not enough?” He has the audacity to look worried. “I can stop back at the bank - “ 

“No, I mean - That’s way too much for a job you did most of the work for. Take the money back, the groceries are more than enough of a payment. I mean, you have to eat just as much as anyone else. I won’t be responsible for someone else going hungry.”

Potter relaxes. “It’s fine then - Seriously, don’t worry.” 

Reigen’s eyes narrow. “Are you some kind of trust fund baby? Am I going to have Mommy and Daddy stopping by in a week and getting pissed that I swindled their darling baby boy out of his allowance?” 

That gets him a laugh. “No, uh. I mean I am kind of a trust fund baby, but no one to get on my case about using it. You’re safe from any parental wrath.” Potter’s face turns serious suddenly, and Reigen sees the man who appeared briefly to send Lord Ooey-Gooey Spirit to the afterlife. “Mr. Reigen, you and your student - I would’ve been haunted by Voldemort until I died or he took my body for his own. You essentially saved the world - and, more selfishly, you saved me from that burden. I wish I could give you more.” 

He could win the argument if he really wanted to, but this money could really make a difference in how he lives. And if the kid’s too dumb or soft-hearted to care that he’s getting swindled, that’s not Reigen’s problem. 

As it’s too early for thoughts of world-saving, Reigen changes the subject. “Well, whatever. Now that you’re megalomaniac-free, what are you going to do?” 

Potter looks at him the way that Mob does when the kid doesn’t have a clue on what’s going on. “What?” 

“It’s not a trick question - what are you going to do now? From what I can tell, this is the first time your life has been just yours. Right? So what now? You got a high school sweetheart to run off into the sunset with? A lifelong career devoted to saving babies? What now for Harry Potter?” 

It’s a little heartbreaking how confused Potter looks. “I uh. There used to be - I had a girlfriend, but that won’t - I mean I’ll go back home, I guess. I’ll sign up if there’s any more restoration efforts that need more help. I’ll see my friends again too, after I have to grovel a bit. And get back to work, of course.“ 

“You don’t sound particularly happy about any of that,” Reigen observes. 

“Of course I’m happy about it!” He says quickly, disproportionately defensive. “I can finally go home and be around my friends without having Voldemort holding me back! Why wouldn’t I be happy?” 

Reigen shrugs and shovels a piece of bacon into his mouth. “I don’t know. Why wouldn’t you? You clearly aren’t.” 

“I am! I can go back to work and make a difference - and yeah, it’s a job, so it’s not great, and Kingsley is being a pain about promoting me - but I have to do it! So - “ 

“Says who?” He interrupts. 

“What?” 

Reigen sighs. “Says who?” He repeats. “Who says you ‘have’ to? You’re young, so there’s probably older people who are better qualified for what you’re doing. This Kingsley guy’s probably trying to trick you into taking the position for less money than someone more experienced if he’s saying you’re the only person qualified for it. You’re just some kid.” 

Potter blinks. 

“It’s a job. There’s millions of other ones out there. If you don’t want to do this one, don’t do it.” He pauses and adds, “And clearly money isn’t an issue for you, so it’s not like you can’t afford to be unemployed until you figure it out. Besides, why are you working? Aren’t you, like, twelve?” 

“I’m twenty-one,” He says blankly. “But. I mean, who else could be head Auror? We lost so many people in the war, and we’re still rebuilding. There’s no one else that can - “ 

“That isn’t your problem!” Reigen waves his fork in Potter’s face. “You’re twenty-one! It’s not your job to fix the world! If you don’t want to do it, don’t do it!” 

“But these are people I care about - if I can do something to help them, shouldn’t I? No one else will - “ 

Reigen slams his fork against the table. “Listen,” It’s easy to reach over and grab Potter’s face, holding it between two hands and squishing his cheeks lightly. “Potter. Look me in the eyes. Pay attention. I don’t repeat myself, okay?” 

He uses his grip to make Potter nod before continuing. “You seem like a nice guy. And that’s real swell, I tell ya. We need more nice people in the world. People who care are some of the most valuable commodities humanity can offer. 

“But what good is a nice person if they get trampled on? Hm?” He squishes Potter’s cheeks tighter together. “You have to stand up for what’s best for you. And this job, whatever it is, doesn’t seem like it’s going to be the best for you. You’re clearly miserable thinking about going home right now. 

“And in my humble opinion, you could use a vacation. I haven’t known you long, and in that time, I’ve learned that you were involved in a war, possibly ended said war, have been busy trying to rebuild your wizarding country from the bottom up with minimal help from anyone else, and have been haunted that entire time by the spirit of a man who tried to kill you on multiple occasions.” 

He finally releases Potter’s face with a gentle pat. “My advice? Hang around here for a bit. Get your head on straight. Figure out if you really want to go back to being an Aurora or if you want to do something else. Hell, I’ll let you crash on my couch if you keep feeding me. I haven’t had a breakfast this good since I left home.” He goes back to eating as much as can fit in his mouth at once. 

Potter looks shell-shocked and hasn’t stopped staring at Reigen since he first started on one of his infamous moral soapboxes. It’s different than Mob’s look of impressed hero-worship, but no less satisfying. 

Because Reigen never knows when to quit, he adds (with bits of egg flying everywhere, whoops), “And no offense, but you’re nothing special. Anything you can do that needs to be done, I guarantee there’s someone else who can do it or can learn how to do it, so they’ll be just fine without you. You’re just some guy, after all, and believe me, there’s plenty more of those around.” 

He looks away just long enough to chug half of his water to wash down the chunk of potato that got lodged in his throat halfway through his speech. He doesn’t expect to see Potter silently crying when he turns back. 

“Ah, shit - “ Reigen swallows stiffly, clears his throat. “I uh. Sorry?” 

“No,” Potter chokes out, laughing a little. He swipes his glasses off to wipe the tears trickling out of his eyes, but they keep coming. Reigen frantically looks for a napkin that isn’t covered in breakfast debris. “I just. No one’s ever said that to me before. For as long as I can remember, it’s been my responsibility to fix everything. I had to save everyone and defeat Voldemort, because I’m supposed to be some kind of savior - even though I’d never done anything.” He looks at Reigen imploringly. “I’m just Harry. Everything I’ve accomplished isn’t because of me being special or especially powerful or - I just did it because it had to be done and no one else was doing it. Not because I’m special or anything.” 

Reigen awkwardly hands him the one semi-clean napkin he was able to find. Potter takes it and wipes at his nose, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry, I - “ 

“That’s a lot of weight to be carrying,” Reigen says seriously. “Don’t you think you deserve to put it down by now?” 

When Potter hesitates, visibly uncomfortable with that idea, Reigen reaches over and grabs his shoulder in a tight grip. “It sounds like you’ve earned it. To me, at least.” 

Sometimes, Reigen regrets his career choices. It’s exhausting, constantly having to be on his A-game. He’s fighting to be taken seriously in a professional field that is inherently unprofessional. This is independent of the struggles that come with running his own business in the first place. Paying rent, choosing between supplies for the job versus supplies for his personal life, advertising, doing taxes, just to name a few. His life is stressful even on the slow days, essentially, because there’s always a minor crisis to be dealing with. 

But in the end, he likes his job. He likes having the freedom to set his own hours, the flexibility he gains by doing something different for every case - Most of all, he likes being able to directly help people. At its core, his job is about making people feel better. Making money too, of course, but the helping people thing is what has him doing this instead of trying to work his way up the management chain at some soulless company. It’d certainly be easier to stick it out as a passionless salaryman if he just wanted money. 

Helping people like Potter makes him feel like he’s doing something worthwhile. Sometimes, his nosiness and inability to keep his mouth shut pays off and makes a difference in someone’s life, and that’s worth more than a steady income. 

And Potter clearly needed someone to say this, going by the way he’s crumpled into tears again. He’s leaning into Reigen’s hand like it’s the only thing anchoring him, and Reigen tightens his grip obligingly.


	2. reigen considers consequences for a whole minute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The floors are white,” he says blankly. 
> 
> Potter, who appears to be levitating and directing three feather dusters with his fingertips, says, “Yeah, I was surprised too. It’s impressive that you haven’t died from some kind of infection yet.” 
> 
> “Why are you cleaning? I feel like I should be embarrassed.” 
> 
> “You really should be,” Potter says unsympathetically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello - thank you all! i appreciate all of the comments and kudos, you're all v sweet <3 
> 
> if any of u are interested, i am on tumblr at dissatisfied-starlight just fyi - i'm not on there super frequently but i'm always down to chat lol 
> 
> thanks for popping in! hope you enjoy the new chapter~

In Potter’s defense, Reigen would also feel incredibly awkward after bursting into tears in front of a virtual stranger. On the other hand, Reigen doesn’t think he’s seen /Mob/ handle a social situation so poorly, and that’s saying something. 

After wiping his eyes and getting his breathing under control, there was a moment of blessed calm. Reigen was able to feel proud of himself for understanding and subsequently soothing a troubled somewhat-youth for that moment before Potter stiffened and jerked out of Reigen’s hold. He very, very quickly stood up and started fussing with the dishes - stacking them up and dumping them in the sink, scrubbing at them vigorously and fully ignoring Reigen. 

“You know - “ 

“I’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow,” Potter says abruptly as soap bubbles start rising from the water. He somehow scrubs harder without breaking the plate. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience - I’ll need most of today to find another place to stay, and then the rest to call home and let them know I’ll be gone longer than I thought I’d be - and then I’ll have to stop by the Japanese magical embassy to extend the staying permission they granted me, which hopefully won’t take too long. You never know with bureaucracy though. And you don’t need me complaining and slobbering over you, so I’ll make sure it goes through as fast as possible so you don’t - “

Reigen mildly says, “You’re allowed to stop for breath, you know. And I already said it was fine for you to stay on my couch for as long as you need. Don’t sweat it.” 

“I just - you’ve already helped me plenty. I don’t want to be a pain or take advantage - “ 

“It’s not taking advantage if I’m offering,” Reigen interrupts. “And the only way you’d be a pain would be if you broke my dishes. Which you appear to be close to doing. So it’d be cool if you didn’t do that, but. They are pretty cheap dishes so losing one or two won’t break me.” 

As if scalded, Potter drops the dishes and spins to face Reigen. “Sorry!” 

“It’s fine.” 

The silence is awkward now, and Reigen tries to think of a way to gracefully transition to any other conversation topic. For once, his charisma is disappointing him. Normally, Reigen can make anyone feel at ease - normally, though, the “anyone” isn’t an ex-soldier who appears to have the worst case of “I haven’t experienced enough kindness in my life and I don’t know how to react to someone showing me basic human decency” that Reigen has ever seen. He’s in new territory, and with some time he’ll map it out - for now though, he’s stumped. 

Thankfully, Reigen’s luck doesn’t run out today. There’s a hesitant knock on the client door, and a tentative voice calling out for assistance - perfectly shattering the tension that had been steadily building to a peak. 

Reigen tries to see his reflection in the microwave door and does his best to comb his hair out of its disheveled state. Minimally successful, he shrugs and half heartedly smooths the shoulders of his jacket before walking confidently to greet his first customer of the day. 

It’s a typical haunting - that is, a typical “haunting.” The man is old enough to be Reigen’s father and just batty enough to believe that a ghost has taken up residence in the used car he purchased a few weeks ago. As he explains how he’s wanted a car like this since he was a boy, Reigen inconspicuously turns to the Internet to ask, “Why would a car sound like brrrrr-brrrr-zzt-brrr” in as many variations as he can think of while maintaining his concerned facade. 

“I see,” Reigen says seriously, closing his laptop quickly. “Did you drive here? I’m sure I can take care of this immediately. While I gather my supplies, would you like to look at my prices? I can answer any questions you may have when I return.” 

Mr. Aoyagi takes a pamphlet with a disproportionately relieved sigh. He starts scanning it while Reigen digs around the office for his toolbox - engraved with sigils and holy symbols for Extra Effect (™). He’s deep in the second storage container in his closet when Potter steps out from the backroom with a tray, carrying a teapot and matching cups that Reigen doesn’t remember owning. He places a cup, a small container of cream, and some packets of sugar on the desk in front of Mr. Aoyagi and says, “Can I get anything else for you, sir? We have some light fare if you’re hungry - I made muffins this morning, in fact, and we haven’t even touched them yet.” 

“No, I - thank you young man, but no thank you.” 

“Then help yourself to tea - I’ll leave the pot.” 

By the time Reigen resurfaces with the red box and starts to usher Mr. Aoyagi downstairs, Potter has started sweeping the office, using a broom that Reigen knows for a fact isn’t his. He hasn’t owned a broom in - ever? He can’t remember ever owning a broom. 

That’s probably not something he should admit, even to himself. He busies himself with opening Mr. Aoyagi’s car hood and digging around, occasionally muttering random chants under his breath to appease his client’s superstitiousness. 

A twist here, a yank there - all-in-all, it’s not as hard as Reigen was fearing based on the tutorial he skimmed over quickly. He tops up the windshield wiper fluid since it’s running low, and he notes that a headlight is out before starting the car briefly and grinning when it runs without screeching. After closing the hood and sprinkling some salt over it, he swipes his hands against his pants and gives Mr. Aoyagi a thumbs-up. 

“The car was definitely haunted,” He lies. “But the exorcism was successful, and your car should run much more smoothly now. I recommend stopping by a repair shop to ensure that the spirit didn’t cause any damage, but you should be good.” He pauses and then adds, “Your left headlight’s out too, by the way. I would’ve fixed it while I was messing around, but I don’t know what light bulb your car takes.” 

Mr. Aoyagi gushes over him as Reigen wipes sweat from his face and looks back up at his office window. Potter’s hair disappears from view the moment Reigen turns to face the building, confirming that Reigen had more of an audience than he initially expected. 

After confirming that the car is purring like a kitten, Mr. Aoyagi pays Reigen (in cash, like the best clients do) and drives off with a delighted laugh. Reigen hopes the light bulb he needs is a common one, because Mr. Aoyagi was a smooth job and deserves to have his dream car in working order. It was a pretty ugly ride, if he’s being honest, but if it made Mr. Aoyagi happy - 

He takes the opportunity to smoke - he hasn’t a cigarette in at least a month, so he’s slowly getting better. Since he made the rule not to smoke when Mob is around, he’s turned into a casual smoker at most. A year or so back, Mob convinced him to add other rules like “don’t smoke inside at all” and “don’t smoke when anyone else is around” and “no more than a pack a month,” and they’ve been doing wonders for his bad habits. 

He’s not sure if his parents would be thrilled that he was finally quitting a dumb habit he picked up as a rebellious teen, or if they’d be pissed that a child convinced him when they couldn’t. 

The cigarette whittles down faster than he wants it to. It doesn’t give him enough time to fully contemplate Potter’s situation, let alone what it means that Reigen opened up his home to a virtual stranger. For all he knows, Potter was on the wrong side of history in whatever cult-war he was involved in. Maybe Reigen’s harboring a war criminal. 

He’s always been impulsive, quicker to trust his gut than his head, but this is a little much - even for him. It’d be one thing if Potter was a kid, but Reigen doesn’t think he’d bother lying about his age. 

So. Reigen’s getting a roommate. A veteran, barely old enough to drink, who had an evil spirit living in his head until twelve-ish hours ago. 

“It’s important to commit,” He murmurs to himself, stomping his cigarette under his shoe. “Once you make a decision, commit to it, and give it your all.” 

The advice he gives Mob isn’t half bad, in his opinion. Just this once, he won’t be a hypocrite. 

 

When he walks back into his office, he has to stop and stare. 

“The floors are white,” he says blankly. 

Potter, who appears to be levitating and directing three feather dusters with his fingertips, says, “Yeah, I was surprised too. It’s impressive that you haven’t died from some kind of infection yet.” 

“Why are you cleaning? I feel like I should be embarrassed.” 

“You really should be,” Potter says unsympathetically. He points at the desk and adds, “I tried to clean out the drawers, but I wasn’t sure what was junk and what wasn’t. I cleaned around it as much as I could.” 

“Great, but I repeat: Why are you cleaning?” 

The feather dusters stop moving and slowly start drifting to the ground - right before they hit, they disappear. Reigen, though he will always advocate that psychic powers and supernatural phenomena are nothing more than character traits like being good at math or being double-jointed, will admit that Potter’s abilities seem pretty sweet from what he has seen so far. He’d love to be able to clean with a flick of his hand. 

Potter doesn’t even look tired, the way that Mob does if he exerts himself. His powers must be more of an afterthought than Mob’s are, which is. He can’t tell if that’s scary or not. 

“Just seemed fair. You’re letting me stay here, I should pull my weight.” 

Reigen really, REALLY would love to understand this guy. “So. Not only have you already cooked for me and overpaid me for a job I didn’t even do anything for - now you’re cleaning up my actual garbage. Because I’m letting you crash on my couch.” 

Potter says, “I did laundry too, so if you’d like to change out of that suit…” 

At Reigen’s incredulous look, Potter shrugs. “You smell, mate. No offense.” 

He grimaces and says, “You get a pass only because I hate doing laundry.” 

“From the look of it, you hate doing any chore.” 

“Okay. Rude. And we’re getting off track - “ 

“Are we? I really think you changing should be dealt with as soon as possible.” 

“Anyway!” Reigen walks over and grabs Potter’s shoulder - he flinches a split second before the grip lands, but Reigen pretends not to notice. “While all of this is appreciated, you can calm down. I’m a low maintenance kind of guy, Potter.” 

“Harry,” He corrects, sliding out from Reigen’s hand. “Just Harry.” 

“Harry,” Reigen amends. “I seriously don’t mind that you’ll be staying here. If you want to pull your weight, you can be in charge of the kitchen and laundry - and if you wanted to help out on some jobs, I wouldn’t be opposed to hiring you part-time. Now that it’s not just me, I can fix my messiness and be accountable for everything else housework-wise. Alright?” 

Harry’s face is oddly wary. He nods anyway, and he willingly shakes Reigen’s hand when he holds it out to solidify the agreement. 

“Now,” Reigen claps his hands together and grins. “What do you bring to the table for Spirits and Such Consulting? Let’s see how we can market you.”


	3. i want to see my little boy (here he comes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaze turning inward, Mob murmurs, “Mr. Potter was being possessed for years. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.” He gives Reigen a tiny smile and says, “It’s good he’ll have you to support him as he recovers.” 
> 
> “You know me, Mob. Always working the charity cases.” 
> 
> “You said that we don’t do volunteer work, though.” 
> 
> “Right you are!” Reigen grins. “Which brings us to our next job - I received a call from someone who’s requesting we make a house call.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello all!! thank u everyone for the kudos and the sweet comments. getting those email notifications really makes my day a lot brighter and i appreciate the pick-me-up~ 
> 
> someone asked when, chronologically, this takes place. the answer is: harry's timeline is completely thrown out the window so the only relevant thing to know right now is that it's a few years post-battle of hogwarts. mp100's timeline is what really matters since that's where this is taking place 
> 
> so to actually answer the question! this is between separation arc and world domination arc. 
> 
> as usual, thank you for reading, and i hope you enjoy it! if you ever feel like chatting about mp100 or harry potter, i'm on tumblr at dissatisfied-starlight~ have a great weekend everybody!

Harry eventually leaves to sort out his affairs, while Reigen wonders what about him, exactly, attracts nondescript yet ungodly powerful individuals. 

Harry’s eerily like Mob. Extremely stoic, with a poor sense of humor and nearly immeasurable power. An appearance of calm that hides a ton of angst and turmoil behind it. Extremely poor fashion sense. It’s like getting a second Mob, if what Harry was saying about his abilities is to be believed. 

When asked for his limitations, Harry said: “I won’t make someone do something they don’t want to. I won’t enter their mental space without permission or just cause. I won’t hurt anyone unless they’re hurting someone else, and I won’t kill anyone unless there isn’t any other option.” 

Let’s note: He said “won’t”. He could do all of those things, but he won’t. Only Harry’s ethical code and word guarantee he won’t do any of those things. Reigen’s glad that Harry clearly had a better role model than Mob does, because it wouldn’t have even occurred to Reigen to think about half of those ethical issues, let alone come up with lessons to be taught about them. 

When pressed further, Harry said: “I can’t bring dead people back to life.” 

Reigen doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that the scrawny, twitchy man can apparently do everything imaginable except necromancy. Harry is stick-thin, visibly mauled and scarred, and at best looks like a starving kitten left on the side of the road after being suffocated in a potato sack. He flinches like a puppy that was not only kicked but trampled on every day of its life. 

If he’s as powerful as he’s claiming, it really puts into perspective how freaking scary Voldemort’s spirit was, if nothing else. 

At the end of the day, though, Reigen stands by his core belief: People aren’t ever anything that exceptional. Those like Mob and Harry, who have unlimited power, are poor at so many other things that the benefits their powers provide even out with their inadequacies in the end. Harry, though clearly magically strong, has more issues than a doctor’s office’s magazine stash. At his core, Harry is a regular joe-schmoe like Reigen. Nothing more, nothing less. 

So he shoves his concerns out of his head, his mild awe over Harry being such a wreck and still controlling his limitless powers with ease, his uncomfortable awareness of Harry’s expressive eyes, and everything regarding Harry Potter other than “Guess I have a new roommate.” Some of his regular clients are stopping by for their weekly “cleansing” rituals, after all, and he has to prepare the atmosphere. 

Somewhere between his third and fourth regular, Mob appears for his shift. He performs his usual office duties (doing homework in between making tea and taking payment from customers) until they hit a lull in clients. 

Then, he turns rather talkative - comparatively to his speaking baseline, at least. 

“The office is… really clean,” He says, a remarkable amount of judgment underneath his bland tone. 

“It’s not like the office was that bad before!” Reigen protests, having thought the same thing earlier. “Sure, there was maybe a little bit of grime - but I wouldn’t expose our customers to filth. It’s bad for business, after all.” 

Mob tilts his head. “It is really clean, though.” 

After a heavy pause to recover from the blow, Reigen says, reluctantly, “It really is. Potter’s responsible for it. He’ll be staying with me for the foreseeable future.” 

Mob’s eyes go starry. “Mr. Potter? From yesterday?” 

Reigen doesn’t know how he feels about a look that used to be only for him being directed towards the skinny bit-of-nothing that didn’t know how to Google an address. He nods anyway. 

Gaze turning inward, Mob murmurs, “Mr. Potter was being possessed for years. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.” He gives Reigen a tiny smile and says, “It’s good he’ll have you to support him as he recovers.” 

“You know me, Mob. Always working the charity cases.” 

“You said that we don’t do volunteer work, though.” 

“Right you are!” Reigen grins. “Which brings us to our next job - I received a call from someone who’s requesting we make a house call.” 

“A house call?” 

“Ms. Nakamura is unable to leave her home,” He explains, standing up and brushing out some of the wrinkles in his jacket. “She’s afraid to go outside. She claims her phobia stems from an external force rather than any mental illness, and she would like us to investigate.” 

“I see.” Mob stands up as well, abandoning his homework without a second glance. Reigen doesn’t blame him - even if supernatural occurrences are normal for them by this point, anything is more exciting than homework. 

“She doesn’t live too far from here, so we’ll walk. Do you want a snack or anything before we go?” 

“You have food?” 

Once again, Reigen has to take a moment to recover from his student’s judgment. “Yeah, Mob, I have food. Jeez.” 

“Did Mr. Potter go shopping as well?” 

That one also hurts, but only because it’s not like Mob is wrong. He busies himself with grabbing one of the muffins that Harry had made before he left. As he’s wrapping it up to eat on the way, he says, “Look, not important - do you want something or not?” 

“I’m good, sir.” 

“Great. Let’s roll out, Mob.” 

Going anywhere with Mob is always a little funny. If they have plenty of time, they end up getting sidetracked by the weirdest things - one time, when Reigen was feeling indulgent, he and Mob followed a trail of ants back to their ant hill. Once there, Mob’s attention was grabbed by a duck, who they followed for almost a mile. This led to them wandering into a restaurant that served pseudo-American fare, and then helping a young boy look for his lost bike. 

Somewhere between the bike retrieval and helping an older gentleman break into his own home because he left his keys at work, they lost track of where they were. At the end of it all, they ended up needing to use the GPS on Reigen’s phone to get home. 

On this particular day, they don’t have unlimited time, so Reigen struggles to keep Mob on task. In their early days of working together, Mob was young enough that Reigen could hold his hand to keep him from wandering off, and he’s big enough to admit that he misses being able to do that. 

Purely so they wouldn’t keep getting sidetracked, of course. And so he wouldn’t potentially lose his student. Not for anything so sentimental as “Mob was fucking adorable when he was little and I didn’t appreciate that enough but now he’s growing up and he’s not going to need me anymore so I should’ve cherished those moments more than I did,” because that isn’t how Reigen is. 

Of course not. 

“Why are you - come on, Mob, we have a client waiting,” Reigen says, gently steering him away from the store window he was staring into. “Remember? Needy woman who can’t leave her house because she’s being haunted? You’re her only hope Obi-Wan?” 

“Obi-who?” 

“It’s from Star Wars - you wouldn’t like it.” 

“Oh.” 

“We can watch it if you want though,” Reigen says doubtfully. “It’s sci-fi, with fighting and junk. I don’t really remember much of the plot itself.” 

“No, that’s alright.” 

“You’d probably like Star Trek more, I think that’s more your taste.” 

“Okay.” 

“Oh, look - this is it, I think.” 

It’s a big house - not anything as extravagant as the Asagiris’ home had been, but bigger than Reigen will ever be able to afford. There are traces of a garden, but it clearly hasn’t been taken care of in awhile. Rotted fruit and dead leaves litter the ground, and the grass has overtaken the path leading up to the door. 

The porch has seen better days, as it’s extremely dusty, with some broken glass and moldy cardboard boxes scattered across it. As they walk up the stairs, they creak alarmingly, and Reigen barely misses stepping on an upturned nail that would’ve required a tetanus shot. 

He isn’t feeling great about bringing Mob here, but if either of them are ever going to get hurt on a job, it’s more likely to be Reigen. Mob, after all, has that whole “I have powers gods would cry in envy over” schtick going on. 

With that comforting thought, he knocks on the door and keeps Mob slightly behind him. When there’s no response after a few seconds, he calls out, “Ms. Nakamura? It’s Arataka Reigen, from Spirits and Such Consultation. We spoke on the phone earlier today - “ 

“Quiet!” A voice hisses. The door opens just enough for an eye and part of a mouth to be visible. “I told you that this is a sensitive matter, Mr. Reigen! Please, okay, this ghost isn’t - he’s very touchy. He only just lets people in, and that’s only if they’re quiet and respectful.” 

“Oh, sorry,” Reigen says. “I’m here with my apprentice, Mob. May we come in?” 

He’s slightly annoyed that she looks like she’s thinking about it - she’s the one who asked them to come here, after all. After a long few moments, she opens the door just wide enough for Reigen to slide through. Mob follows, and she slams the door shut before Mob’s fully in the entrance. 

The inside of the house is worse than the outside. There’s piles of garbage bags stacked up against the door that Reigen nearly trips over, and he counts six broken, grimy plates on the fireplace mantle when they walk into the living room. There’s a few candles lit, but no lights are on and the windows are covered with thick, heavy curtains. 

Ms. Nakamura, in the candlelight, is visibly exhausted. She winces away from them, embarrassment and shame flickering on her face as she hurriedly tries to clear a path through the debris for them. Her eyes are sunken, her face sallow, and he can see that her nails are bitten to the quick. Or, maybe not bitten - one or two look like they were ripped off, and Reigen feels his lingering irritation slip away. 

Either she is very ill, or Ms. Nakamura is being haunted in a bad way. 

“Can you tell us more about the spirit, Ms. Nakamura?” Reigen asks, putting his hands in his pockets. He nearly jumps when he touches the half-eaten muffin in there - he had a few bites on the way over before he had to start herding Mob in the right direction - because it’s a little disconcerting to expect to feel the metal of his keys and instead feel something squishy. 

(Shit. Did he forget his keys again? They’re not underneath the muffin from what he can tell, and his other pocket is empty. 

Damn it. Mob’s going to be insufferable when he asks him to open the office door for him.) 

She fiddles with the edge of her right sleeve. Clearly, she doesn’t want to elaborate. Even a little. 

After an uncomfortable pause, Reigen presses with, “Do you believe the spirit is tied to this home?” 

“No.” After Reigen waits for a beat or ten, she eventually adds, “I’ve lived here for years.” 

“Is there a chance that the spirit could be someone you’ve known at some point? Has anyone close to you passed on recently?” 

She nods. 

Valiantly trying not to tear his own hair out, Reigen asks tightly, “Can you tell us about that person?” 

She shakes her head. 

Before Reigen can say anything rude, Mob, out of nowhere, goes, “Ah. They cursed you before passing on.” 

He doesn’t have time to wrap his head around that before Ms. Nakamura is hurriedly nodding and tearing up. She swipes at her eyes and says, “He - It was.” 

Mob nods, as if he knows what she means despite her saying barely two words. Reigen has gotten comfortable with the feeling of being ten steps behind since taking Mob under his wing, but that doesn’t mean he likes it, and he instinctively struggles to take control of the situation. 

“Nasty things, curses are,” He says conspiratorially. “I’m sure it’s been a hard couple of - weeks?” She shakes her head. “Months?” Another shake. “Years?” 

She bursts into tears, sobs tearing out of her throat. “I just want to go outside,” She cries. “I want to see the sun and feel grass and see other people, I want to stop feeling so horrible all the time, p-please, I-I h-hate this s-so mu-u-u-uch - “ 

Mob, bless his heart, looks like someone just hit him in the face with a shovel. He freezes and stares at the sobbing woman in front of them - clearly concerned, clearly out of his depth. 

Reigen whips out his handkerchief and, with the patience of a man who has had countless clients do the same thing, doesn’t cringe when she uses it to blow her nose. Despite that not being what handkerchiefs are for. 

At all. 

It doesn’t bother him, really. 

“We’re going to exorcise this spirit,” Reigen says firmly, determinedly not making a face when she tries to hand the handkerchief back to him. When she doesn’t just put it down, he plucks it up between his thumb and index finger, stuffing it into his pocket. “And we’ll figure out how to break your curse. You won’t feel like this forever.” 

With that, he stands up and claps his hands together. “So, Mob - you feeling limber? Let’s get this sorted out.”


	4. in which my poor foreshadowing finally pops up!!! SYMBOLISM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It has his aura on it? Is it safe to eat?” Reigen stares at the item in his hands, uncomfortable. “Is it weird that I ate it?” 
> 
> Mob shrugs. 
> 
> “Helpful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> getting close to the end guys! only one more chapter after this one :) and then onto the next section of the fic that i have made almost no progress on!!! but that's a problem for tomorrow's starlight tbh 
> 
> thanks to everyone who commented and left kudos! work has been kinda hell recently so i've taken to reading the comments on this fic to get me through some hellish days tbh 
> 
> hope everyone's still enjoying it - i'll post ch5 relatively soon, there's a few more minor editing things i've been wanting to do so once that's dealt with i'll get it up since we're so close to the end. thanks for going on this journey with me, all! :)

It takes them an hour to find the spirit. 

An hour. With the strongest esper on the planet (not that Reigen is biased or anything) acting as their radar, it takes them an hour to pin down the damn thing. It’s unheard of for their initial hunt to take so long - sure, sometimes they have to wander into the forest and search, but when Mob can sense a spirit, it’s only physical distance that slows them down. 

Mob can feel the ghost clearly. He can tell that the ghost is large, but not exceptionally powerful. He can pinpoint it down to the exact room it’s currently in, but the minute they start to approach, it disappears and goes to a different room, and they have to start searching all over again. 

Even Mob has a bit of an eye twitch going on after the forty-five minute mark. Reigen is back to wanting to tear his hair out. 

Finally, they step into a room and the spirit decides to deign them with its presence. 

It looks like a jerk. Reigen hates it on sight, with its douchey, smarmy scowl and unnecessarily large biceps. It’s a dark blue ghost, what does it even need biceps for? 

“You two are persistent,” It grumbles, growing in size with every word. “The fuck do you want. I’ll rip your heads off, I’m tired of little snots coming in my home, my house, my - “

“Oi, you’re the one ruining Ms. Nakamura’s life,” Reigen snaps. “We’re here to fix that. Now you can release her from whatever curse you put her under and leave, or we’ll exorcise you faster than you can say ‘Sorry’. Get me?” 

It roars, loudly, instead of getting lost like it should. Mob steps forward like the good disciple he is, but the bastard is fast. It somehow sneaks past Mob, who’s barely able to say, “Sir, watch out - “ before it’s at Reigen’s throat. 

Reigen barely has a second to lament the fact that this isn’t enough to get his blood pumping anymore, and his self-preservation instincts are permanently fucked at this point, before the spirit is reeling back with a yelp. 

“What’s that?” It vaguely points at Reigen’s crotch area, horrified. “What is it what is it holy shit what is it what is WRONG with you?!” 

“Eh?” Reigen and Mob say, as one. Reigen’s is more incredulous, while Mob’s is confused. 

The spirit backpeddles, going, “no, nope, no, I don’t wanna fuck with that - “ straight into Mob’s psychic grip. 

It disappears without any further fanfare, leaving Mob and Reigen to stare in silence at the spot where it was exorcised. 

He looks down at himself, reassuring himself that he did, in fact, put pants on today, and no, he doesn’t have an embarrassing fear hard-on. He can’t think of what else could possibly be wrong enough with his groin that a spirit would willingly wander into an exorcism. Is he cursed? Is his dick cursed? 

He turns to ask Mob, and is thankfully cut off from asking by Mob asking, “Why was he interested in your pocket, sir? Did you leave a spirit tag in there?” 

Reigen blanches, realizing how close that bullet came, and how, as usual, Mob has inadvertently saved him from utter embarrassment. “My pockets. Of course. That’s. Also there.” 

He clears his throat and says, “Well, in one… oh gross, this is the snot rag from Ms. Nakamura.., maybe he’s a germaphobic spirit? It would make sense with the agoraphobia, I suppose…” he shoves his hand in the other pocket and pulls out the half-eaten muffin. It’s looking worse for wear, and he turns it to look at it from all angles. “Just Potter’s muffin in the other one. Nothing supernatural there.” 

Mob cocks his head to the side. “The muffin has a little bit of Mr. Potter’s aura,” He admits. “But it’s rather soothing. I don’t see why the spirit would run like that.” 

“It has his aura on it? Is it safe to eat?” Reigen stares at the item in his hands, uncomfortable. “Is it weird that I ate it?” 

Mob shrugs. 

“Helpful.” 

“We should tell Ms. Nakamura that the spirit is gone, sir, and see if the curse broke with its exorcism.” 

“Ah, right you are, Mob.” 

Ms. Nakamura is still tense after they tell her that her home is now spirit-free. She says, “I’m still. I don’t think I can go outside.” 

When Reigen glances over at Mob, he nods, confirming that the curse remains. “Can you break the curse, Mob?” 

Mob hesitates. “It’s multi-layered,” He says slowly. “Most of it I can handle, but there’s part of it that’s close to her heart. I’m not sure if it’s safe for me to try to break that part.” 

Reigen lets out a gusty sigh. “Do what you can - maybe getting rid of the outer layers will make the inner one easier to break? We might have to see if Dimple can stop over, he has a more delicate touch than you do.” 

“Yes sir.” 

It’s a mixture of impressive and hilarious to watch Mob’s powers ramp up - his hair starts lifting up and floating like he’s in an anime, but his expression stays as calm and placid as ever. An undeniable weight presses against Reigen’s shoulders even when his powers aren’t focused on Reigen, but nothing in the room really moves other than Mob. Ms. Nakamura’s eyes are shut tightly, her own shoulders trembling underneath the heavy power. 

Reigen, ever the optimist, figures that when Mob’s prismatic aura touches her, the bonds holding her back will break, and she’ll relax all at once. Everything will be fine, they’ll get paid, he’ll take Mob out for ramen, and life will go on as usual. 

Instead, Mob’s powers touch her, and suddenly they’re both screaming - loud, echoing wails, amplified by Mob’s powers going on the fritz and tearing up half of her belongings. Half of Mob’s psychic reach starts tearing apart the room, while the other half connects him to Ms. Nakamura and turns an eerie, sickly shade of pale orange. Reigen’s running over and grabbing Mob before he even consciously decides to, dragging him away from Ms. Nakamura. 

“Mob! Stop stop stop kid you have to stop pull it back damn it Mob - “ He babbles, flinching when off to his left, a light bulb explodes. “C’mon kid pull it back it’s not working Mob it’s NOT working stop it stop - “ He grabs Mob’s hand that’s still reaching out to Ms. Nakamura and tries to force it down, to break the connection between them. He hisses as his hand starts to steam, but he doesn’t let go. 

Eventually, he succeeds in pointing Mob’s hand away from Ms. Nakamura, and the dramatics cease immediately. Mob collapses into his arms, unconscious, and Ms. Nakamura staggers back and pants harshly for a beat before she, too, collapses. 

Reigen gently but frantically pats Mob’s face. “Hey, Mob. Mob. Mob, kid, can you hear me?” There’s no response, but Mob’s breathing, and he doesn’t look like he’s in pain. After carefully laying him down, he does the same for Ms. Nakamura. 

Sometimes, he wonders how he ended up here - in a recently de-haunted-ified house with two unconscious individuals, trying to find out if he should call an ambulance or not. They’re both breathing with perfectly normal pulses - just suspiciously unconscious after a psychic lightshow. 

What to do, what to do. 

For some reason, his mind drifts to Potter and latches on. He barely knows the guy, but he seemed to want to be helpful. He claims to be a wizard and clearly has some sort of powers, going off of how quickly and easily he could clean the apartment. Through his own admission, he has few limitations (though how biased that answer is, Reigen obviously can’t know yet.) 

He doesn’t want to trust a virtual stranger with Mob’s safety, but he doesn’t know who else to reach out to. The other options are psychic children who are weaker than Mob and would likely be hurt even worse by whatever is going on. 

With a long-suffering sigh, he picks Mob up and lays him out on Ms. Nakamura’s couch. He grabs a pillow and lays it under Ms. Nakamura’s head, too, since he doesn’t feel comfortable moving her. Potter didn’t leave Reigen with a phone number or anything, which means he’s going to go back to the office and hope he returned after finishing his errands. 

He hesitates before leaving, before deciding that they’re in a relatively safe neighborhood and it would be unlikely for anyone to wander in uninvited considering Ms. Nakamura’s situation. He shuts the door behind him and hurries off, going as fast as he can manage when he has the lungs of a long-term smoker and physique of a full paper towel roll. 

 

The office door is locked. 

Of course. 

Because Reigen left his keys inside. And Potter isn’t back yet. 

Reigen wants to scream, but he contents himself with a frustrated grunt and kicking the door futilely. He doesn’t know what to do, having banked on Potter having returned already. Maybe he can find Mob’s little brother - the kid isn’t Reigen’s biggest fan, but he’d show up to help his brother. And then kick Reigen’s ass, but at least Mob would be fine. 

He doesn’t know how he feels about involving another kid, though - maybe he can call Shinra? The guy had some powers, nothing on Mob’s level, but maybe he has more experience with curses. It seems like it’d be up his alley, maybe. 

“Mr. Reigen? Is everything alright?” 

Oh thank God, he really didn’t want to have to ask for Shinra’s help - the guy’s nice enough, but he wasn’t “in the know” about Reigen being a baseline human, and Reigen would like to keep it that way for his reputation’s sake. 

“Harry, I need your help,” He says seriously, turning around to face him. “Mob and I came across a curse that was beyond our abilities. I’m not sure if this is something you can help with, but Mob’s in trouble - “ 

Harry drops the - is that more grocery bags? Did he seriously get MORE food what is with this kid - he’s holding and immediately says, “Where is he?” 

“A couple blocks down the way - “ 

“Tell me everything while we walk, let’s go.” 

Reigen, surprised and oddly warm, does. Harry sets a brutal pace - clearly in much better shape than Reigen is, and his face is stony and determined. 

He’s never had someone, other than Mob, so willing to drop everything to help him. They’ve known each other for - a glance at his watch confirms this - not even twenty-four hours, and Harry’s following Reigen who-knows-where to deal with who-knows-what. 

It makes Reigen feel a little bit better about his own impulsivity, to be honest. At least he’s not the only one jumping into situations like a reckless idiot. Harry seems to be of the same breed. 

When Reigen finishes explaining, Ms. Nakamura’s house is another block down. Harry says, “I haven’t heard of any curses like this - it sounds like there’s a failsafe over it. I think that this is some kind of vow.” 

“Vow?” 

“It’s like a promise, but with consequences if you break it.” They approach Ms. Nakamura’s house, and Harry says, lowly, “The Unbreakable Vow, for example, results in your death if you even try to work around it. If it’s a vow, it’s going to be near-impossible to break it. And there will be consequences.” 

“Ms. Nakamura sounded miserable,” Reigen says. “Whatever the consequences, if they don’t kill her, she may just accept them.” 

Harry’s face turns unbearably sad, at that. “There are worse fates than death, Mr. Reigen.” 

Yeesh. Heavy. 

“Hey, if you want me to call you Harry, the least you can do is drop the ‘Mr.’ crap.” He wipes sweat off of his forehead. “And I mean. Yeah, there’s always something worse. But we’ll play it by ear, and we’ll save Mob, and we’ll figure out something for Ms. Nakamura. No big deal.” 

Harry lets them into the house, raising a slightly disbelieving eyebrow. “You’re pretty calm about this.” 

“Eh, we’ve had weirder. Remind me to tell you about the Dash Granny.”


	5. not the worst job interview ever i guess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry checks on Mob first, which gets him a few brownie points from Reigen. He says, “He’ll be fine. It looks like magical exhaustion to me - or, I guess whatever the psychic equivalent of that would be. He just needs rest.” 
> 
> “Oh thank God.” He feels almost all of his stress leave almost immediately, knowing that Mob’s not in danger. He leans over and pats Mob’s head, ruffling his hair a little in the way that he always resists when awake. “Hear that, kiddo? Next time save some juice for the walk home. You’re not ten anymore, it’s gonna be a huge pain having to carry you. ‘Specially now that you’re beefing up.” 
> 
> Mob doesn’t answer, obviously. Reigen mentally fills in what Mob would’ve said, which could vary from, “Yes sir,” to “What juice?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so ends the second installment of the series! i really hope everyone has enjoyed this half as much as i've enjoyed writing it. i'm 2 chapters into the next section, so once i'm halfway through it i'll start posting for that one as well. 
> 
> thanks everyone for the kudos and comments! let me know what you think - it's been awhile since i've done "case-fic" style fics, and heck if they aren't a grand ol' time. 
> 
> as always, i'm at dissatisfied-starlight on tumblr as well if you feel like chatting about mp100 there. season 2's wrecking me, all. it's so good~ 
> 
> thanks for reading~!

Reigen would’ve expected Harry’s preference for cleanly spaces to make him uncomfortable in Ms. Nakamura’s home, but Harry’s confidence doesn’t waver once as they wander in. He doesn’t even bother stepping around the junk that’s on the floor - he steps on it or over it, focused on the task at hand. 

Reigen’s in his late twenties - it took him until recently to accept his adulthood and own up to the maturity level that he thinks he needs to have at this point. Harry wears his confidence and maturity like a well-loved coat, as if nothing can faze him. 

Which is bizarre, considering that just this morning, he was having a meltdown over not knowing what he wanted to do with his life and Reigen was wondering if he should Google some local therapists for the guy. It should feel like he’s looking at a completely new person. 

Harry checks on Mob first, which gets him a few brownie points from Reigen. He says, “He’ll be fine. It looks like magical exhaustion to me - or, I guess whatever the psychic equivalent of that would be. He just needs rest.” 

“Oh thank God.” He feels almost all of his stress leave almost immediately, knowing that Mob’s not in danger. He leans over and pats Mob’s head, ruffling his hair a little in the way that he always resists when awake. “Hear that, kiddo? Next time save some juice for the walk home. You’re not ten anymore, it’s gonna be a huge pain having to carry you. ‘Specially now that you’re beefing up.” 

Mob doesn’t answer, obviously. Reigen mentally fills in what Mob would’ve said, which could vary from, “Yes sir,” to “What juice?” 

Harry clears his throat, reminding Reigen of his presence. He stands up straight hurriedly and straightens his tie, walking over. “Yes, and here we have Ms. Nakamura. A victim of a curse and a haunting - the haunting part Mob and I took care of, of course.” 

“And you said that whoever the spirit had been in life was the one that had cursed her, right?” 

Reigen nods. “From what I can tell, it was her father. When I was researching her before taking the case, she didn’t have any significant others or marriage licenses listed online, and the house had been under her paternal grandfather’s name until he passed away - then it went to her father. Nakamura Sr.’s obituary was also from three years ago, which fits with the little information she was able to give us.” 

Harry nods. He’s twirling his wand between his fingers thoughtfully, staring at Ms. Nakamura. He says, “I don’t think I know enough about curses to break it without knowing what it does. I’m not a cursebreaker. If we had time, I could reach out to my friend’s brother who does this professionally, but I don’t think it would be very safe to leave her like this after Mob already nudged the curse some.” 

“So… What do we do?” 

Harry digs in his pockets and pulls out a small, metallic thing. He says, “Guess we’ll have to ask Mr. Nakamura.” 

“Mr. Nakamura - as in, the deceased father of our client?” Reigen asks incredulously. “I thought you said you can’t bring the dead back to life. You literally said that’s the only thing you are incapable of doing.” 

“There’s plenty that I’m incapable of doing, it’s just hard to generalize,” Harry mumbles. He rolls the - rock? Maybe it’s a rock - around in his hand. “And we’re not bringing him back to life. We’re just going to talk to him for a bit.” 

“A seance?” 

Harry blinks. “I don’t know what that is.” Before Reigen can explain, Harry says, “Mr. Nakamura, can you please enter?” 

Reigen knows spirits, okay? He’s probably seen hundreds since he and Mob started working together. They’re generally neon or black, generally ugly as sin, generally terrifying, and, above all else, barely recognizable as the humans they had once been. Outside of a few exceptions and edge cases, these are facts that Reigen knows. 

Mr. Nakamura fades into existence in front of them - he looks exactly like the picture in the obituary, if a little bit older. He’s washed-out and grey, like a towel that’s been washed too many times or an old black-and-white movie. 

Reigen’s breath hitches when the man’s sad, sorrowful eyes glance over to look at him. This isn’t a spirit, he thinks dumbly. Spirits are loud and bold, they cause problems, they’re almost always obnoxious as all Hell - they never felt dead. They were never so quiet, so unobtrusive. This bland, apathetic thing can’t be the same breed as what Reigen has become so familiar with. This can’t be the same spirit that he and Mob exorcised today. 

Except it must be. And this is what happens when you move on, he thinks. 

It’s… sobering, to say the least. The sorrow in Mr. Nakamura’s eyes is infectious. 

Mr. Nakamura’s eyes eventually leave Reigen completely and focus on Harry. “Yes?” His voice is wispy and soft. 

“Mr. Nakamura,” Harry’s voice, commanding and certain, brings Reigen out of his shock and back into the moment. “Did you curse your daughter before your death?” 

Somehow, he becomes sadder. “Yes.” 

“Why?” 

Mr. Nakamura doesn’t move, which is unnerving now that Reigen’s noticed. Not to breathe - obviously, he’s dead, he doesn’t need to - but none of the other fidgeting or adjustments that living people do when standing still. The only movement is his mouth when he speaks. 

He finally says, thoughtfully, “I don’t really know. I suppose I was afraid that Jun would forget me. I spent many years treating her poorly - what reason would she have to keep me in her memory? I was old and feeble, and though she was a Squib, she was the only thing I’d be leaving behind once I died. I wanted a legacy.” 

Reigen wants to tell him off. There’s so much wrong with what he just said - and what he’s doing to Ms. Nakamura - that he wouldn’t really even know where to begin. What kind of adult - what kind of father would ever treat their child like this? 

The idea of having this man’s eyes on him, though, keeps Reigen from opening his mouth. He doesn’t want to deal with that, on top of the oppressive, strange atmosphere. It’s different than when Mob uses his powers - that has a weight, but it doesn’t necessarily have any feeling tied to it unless Mob’s out of control. 

This atmosphere is all around them - almost like they’re on a different plane of existence. He finally understands what a liminal space is, seeing as somehow one tiny rock was able to throw him and Harry into one. 

Harry doesn’t seem bothered. He merely nods at Mr. Nakamura and asks, “What was the curse that you used on her?” 

“One to keep her here. One to keep her placid. And one to keep her quiet.” 

Harry mutters, seemingly to himself, “Three curses. You were cruel, Mr. Nakamura.” 

“I was.” 

“Do you regret it? At all?” 

For the first time since he was summoned, Mr. Nakamura moves. He nods silently. 

Harry nods back. “Thank you, Mr. Nakamura. Be at peace.” 

Mr. Nakamura fades away as unobtrusively as he faded into existence. The strange, oppressive weight lifts, and the world is normal again. 

Reigen wipes sweat off of his forehead the moment it feels like he can move again. He pushes all of the weirdness to the back of his mind to mull over later, and asks, “Three curses. Is that something you can fix?” 

Harry hurriedly shoves the rock into his pocket when Reigen’s words hit him, and he says, “Well, we’ll find out, won’t we?” 

Reigen flails. “You can’t say that! You’re supposed to say, ‘Of course, this is nothing - I’ve defeated the most evil dark lord of all time, what’s a few measly curses?’ Customers want confidence, Harry!” 

He shrugs. “It’s your customer, not mine. And she’s unconscious, so it doesn’t really matter right now.” He waves his wand, bringing Ms. Nakamura closer. 

Before Reigen can (rightfully) criticize Harry for his rudeness, Harry starts doing - something. He doesn’t say anything, but streams of lights flow out of his wand and circle around Ms. Nakamura. The ribbons latch onto seemingly random parts of her body, like wriggly worms burrowing into dirt. Eventually, they slowly retract, pulling out thick blobs of pale orange goop. It’s the same color as earlier, when Mob was trying to destroy the curse. 

It takes about twenty minutes for Harry’s magic to finish up. He slides his wand into a holster at his waist and stands up, rubbing the back of his neck. About twenty seconds later, Ms. Nakamura awakens with a start. She presses at her chest and takes a few shaky breaths, eyes not seeing anything. 

Reigen crouches down. “Ms. Nakamura?” She still is just breathing and staring, patting her torso all over. “Jun? How are you feeling?” 

She startles and swivels her head to look at him with wide eyes. “It’s gone.” 

“My colleague, Mr. Potter, is a professional. He was able to break your curses - “ 

“Potter?!” She spins to look at the other conscious occupant of the room, who awkwardly waves at her. “Harry Potter?” 

Harry visibly winces, and suddenly, Reigen is seeing the same, insecure and traumatized man who cried on him that morning. The confidence bled out of him almost immediately when Jun Nakamura said his name with a humbling amount of reverence. His posture is suffering, slowly curling in on himself. 

Even with all of that, he gives her a small, awkward wave. “Hi. You should be fine now.” 

Jun looks at Harry the same way devout individuals would look at a particularly awe-inspiring artwork of their idol. It’s enough to make Reigen uncomfortable, and he’s not on the receiving end of the look. 

“So,” Reigen claps his hands together and stands up, holding out a hand for her to take. She reluctantly takes it and stands up as well. “Let’s see the effects of our curse breaking. Do you want to watch the sunset outside?” 

Her eyes light up, forgetting Harry for the time being. She rips her hand out of Reigen’s and is out the door before anyone can say anything else. 

Reigen takes that time to go over to Harry and throw a friendly arm over his shoulder. Blatantly ignoring the tension that tightens up Harry’s shoulders, he says, “Appreciate the help. Assuming she can afford it, you’ll get a quarter of the pay.” 

It’s a ridiculous percentage to give him, considering he saved Mob and Jun. It’s even more ridiculous when you take into account Reigen not doing a damn thing with the original exorcism, the seance-ish-thing that Harry did, or the curse breaking. Really, Reigen should get five percent for setting up the job, with Mob and Harry splitting the rest. 

Harry, visibly uneasy, says, “Don’t worry about it. You don’t need to pay me for doing the right thing.” 

It confirms what Reigen already knew - Harry’s used to getting taken advantage of and being uncomfortable. Or, more likely: He’s used to overwhelming, overbearing idolization that’s masqueraded as gratitude, and he’s learned that the response to actual compensation and thankfulness is to brush it off to try to avoid suffering through the awkwardness and discomfort. 

This guy gets sadder the more Reigen learns about him. He’s starting to actually be grateful that Harry wandered into his office and requested his help, because it’s clear this is someone who could easily get taken advantage of for the wrong reasons. 

Reigen, of course, only takes advantage for righteous, good reasons - in this case, it’s to pay for the celebratory dinner he, Harry, and Mob will go out for together once Mob wakes up. 

“Suit yourself,” Reigen says with a casual shrug. “Thanks for the assist. Let’s grab Mob and get going, yeah?” 

It’s just their luck that Mob seems to be coming to as they walk over. Reigen grins and pokes Mob’s cheek to help him wake up fully. “Rise and shine, kiddo. How you feeling?” 

Mob scrubs at his eyes and yawns as an answer. 

“You’ll probably be tired for a few days,” Harry says, voice soft. “You used a lot of energy weakening those curses.” 

Mob blinks and tilts his head up. “Mr. Potter.” He sounds confused. “When did you get here?” 

“Your mentor asked for my help when you were incapacitated.” 

He tilts his head in the opposite direction to look at Reigen. “This is the second time I wasn’t able to fully handle a job,” Mob says thoughtfully. “Do you think I’m getting weaker, sir?” 

Reigen shakes his head. “No, of course not. From what I can tell, yesterday and today’s jobs were magical-based. I’m not sure where the line is between psychic powers and magical abilities like Harry’s, but it appears that your psychic abilities are less effective against magic than they are against supernatural threats.” 

It’s bullshit, but it’s bullshit that Mob and Harry nod along to as if it makes sense. 

Whew. 

“You really helped, too,” Harry cuts in earnestly. “Whatever you did loosened up the curses - it made them a lot easier to draw out. I haven’t had a lot of experience with them, and Jun’s likely only as healthy as she is now because of your work earlier. Thank you for your help, Kageyama.” 

Reigen tries not to let his jaw drop, because if he’s not mistaken, that’s a blush on Mob’s face. An honest-to-God blush. 

“Ah, um, t-thank you, Mr. Potter.” 

“You can just call me Harry. I’m not one for formalities.” 

The blush deepens. Reigen feels like his eyes are going to bug out, because this is new. 

“Then please call me Mob. O-or Shigeo. Whichever you prefer.” 

Harry, oblivious to the way that Reigen’s world has just turned upside-down, says, “You said we should get going - do you need to talk to Jun before we go?” 

“Oh, yeah. C’mon, Mob. You alright to walk?” 

He is, and so they leave. Jun looks like she just finished crying when they approach her. She’s calm and staring at the sky with her legs tucked up against her chest. Her feet are in the grass, toes curling between the strands. 

She hands Reigen a thicker envelope than he expected before turning to Harry, who freezes. She bows her head low and says, fervently, “Thank you for giving me my life back, Mr. Potter. I’m in your debt.” 

Harry shakes his head and backs up a step. “Uh, it was nothing. I’m just glad you’re alright now. There’s no debt.” 

Her eyes are unnervingly bright. “You’re as humble and kind as the rumors say.” 

“And we would appreciate if there were as few of those as possible,” Reigen says, cutting in. He looks at her seriously and adds, “Mr. Potter would prefer as few people know of his whereabouts as possible. He’s doing - Well, I’m sure you understand. Right?” 

She nods fervently. “Of course. My lips are sealed.” 

Reigen gives her a broad smile and ushers Harry and Mob away, wishing her health and happiness and yadda yadda yadda until they’re safely away from her hero worship. Harry relaxes as soon as she’s out of sight. 

“Now, I do believe that we deserve a treat after such a busy job,” Reigen announces, waving the envelope of their pay happily. “What do you say to ramen? At the nice place, too? We earned it, and we can celebrate Harry’s first day of employment.” 

Harry goes, “Wait, employment - ?” at the same time Mob’s eyes turn starry and he asks, “Harry will be working with us?” 

Reigen winks. “You betcha. It’ll give you more time to devote to your studies and club activities, it’ll let Harry try some new work, and I’ll get an extra hand to help out. Seems like a win-win all around, to me.” 

Mob’s eyes remain starry as Harry sighs and says, “You could’ve asked.” 

“Alright, fine. Harry Potter, do you want to work for me as a magical consultant for Spirits and Such Consulting?” He gives him a winning grin, a little gratified when that results in Harry flushing red and sputtering. “A consultant for a consultant - it’s a much better job title than ‘live-in cook for a poor entrepreneur’, in my opinion.” 

Harry’s face, red as a tomato, breaks into a reluctant smile. “Yeah, alright.” 

“Alright! Now let’s eat, jeez, aren’t you guys starving? I am and I barely even used my powers.” 

Harry, blithely, asks, “You have powers?”


End file.
